


Broken Cage

by MikaMckeena



Category: Bleach
Genre: Being Lost, Drama, Hope, Other, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Second Chances, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:38:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaMckeena/pseuds/MikaMckeena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can a broken Hitsugaya live on and escape Hueco Mundo? Or will his new keeper keep her new doll to have some more fun?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a old work I don't plan to rewrite but I hope to re-hit up part two of this story.

The land of tears gave forth a blast of wind,

And fulminated a vermilion light,

Which overmastered in me every sense,

And as a man whom sleep hath seized I fell.

Dante's : **Divine Comedy**

How could the body feel such pain like this? Every cell in his living body was in anguish torture. Limps had gone numb long hours ago from the chains biting into the tender flesh. His clothing draped from his small limps in rages. Much of it darker then it once had been from the blooding driving long ago. Strains shown from the white like blood on snow. His hair was the same way, the silver hair clinged to the skull from the blood and sweat. Dull teal eyes looked out into white walls, giving away no sense of time to his still mind. Days ago, those same eyes would have frozen over any soul that dared to this to his him. Now they fell stationary, heavy in shadows.

No life played on the face, or words from the crack lips. Broken was what that still cling called a soul to the body.

This had become his world.

A world of endless torture and scared flash; fired metal, whips with barbs, hands hitting his broken body, needles driven into the skin and left for hours. Those were wounds on his body, but his mind was far off worse then any of those numerous done to him. Shattered was the once keen mind he was known for. Poison thoughts were shoved into his mind; his worse fears being brought to life over and over while the curly was done to the flesh. dreads he possessed never known, and had been taught to fear in this white hell.

Clink, the door opened to his room. A delicate figure walked in, humming a nameless tune from her lips. Smiling at the site of her doll chained to the wall. Her graceful hands reached out to softly stroke his check. Whimpering at the sensation of being touched, he wished to withdraw from that hand. Quiver at what those same hands had done to him over and over again. Eyes locking from their mucky gaze to look at the girl.

Her smile growing even more at the display of fear. She loved to play with her new doll. Days of fun and joy had entered into her world at last. This place was full of people who had no idea what fun was. Yet this doll given to her one day had changed all that at last. He had been full of trouble and bad words. Tugging from under the chains he had been placed into by some of the dull heads. Fighting and refusing to cry out from the lashes of the bard whip into such a tender back such as his. He had been gift from her most loved person in all the world.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhh, its alright. I won't hurt today. We need to get you cleaned up now and taught proper manners like a good boy. If you do well this time, I won't have to punish you again my little chibi." her silken words poured from the magenta lips. Those blue eyes glistening like half cast moons.

Whimpering deep in his chest, he kept still at her touch on his body. Cuffs were removed from the flesh. Blood oozed from the reopened wounds left from them. Dripping down his arms to the while floor below. Her gaze locking on the crimson dots on the floor. The two males dragged the boy without a fight out of the white room. Paths of blood showing was he was being taken if followed by anyone at the time.

Bright eyes flashed a bit more and a high giggle fell from those lips. Twirling on the path of blood like a child. She loved clash of color. Of coarse, he had always been like that in her eyes. A clash of color and form.

One more man watched that pieties figure dance and twirl in the blood. Softly smiling like any proud parent of a child. "Are you cleaning up your doll again?"

Stopping at the sound of his voice, she nodded virology. "Yes, I didn't really want to brake him like that. But wasn't doing what I ask again. I just hope he learns this time around. Next time, I am going to have to get a new doll."

Deep auburn eyes glowed heavenly at her own azure ones. Walking into the white cell and cupped her cheek in his own hands. "Now my dear, it would be very hard for me to get a new dolls like this one. It took a lot of hard work to get what you asked this time."

Her lower lip stuck out at this words. Knowing they were true. Anything he said was always true. He would never lie to her, not at all.

"Alright, Aizen-kun. I'll play nice." she murmured, looking down at her feet like a child would.

Smiling at her acting, his eyes crinkled in good humor. Peeking from under her bangs like she always did when corned in this speech. Turning away once more, her eyes looked once were the boy had been kept.

"I hope Shiro-chan listens this time." she singed out, loving the echo being played back off the walls.

Smiling at the tone he answered as he left "So do I Momo-chan."


	2. Chapter 2

I reached a place

where every light is muted,

which bellows like the sea beneath a tempest,

when it is battered by opposing winds.

Dante's : **Divine Comedy**

Warm bath water engulfed the boy's body. Traces of blood began to come off the flower-like skin. Turning the clear water a pink crimson in the white tub. The two men left the boy to lay in the pool, seeing how he was just laying there, almost in a dormant state. He never tried to fight now, or yell at them to release him anymore. Just a doll with a beating heart.

She skipped almost into the room. Humming the same nameless tune from her charming lips. Bit of deep auburn shaded locks fell flowing down her shoulders freely. Having given up on the trade mark bun she wore not so long ago. Grabbing a small bucket and dipping it into the water, she gentle poured the water out on top of her doll. Washing away the blood she had drawn out with dull knife not so long ago on the same flesh.

"See, doesn't a warm bath feel nice Shiro-chan!" she said genially into his ears

His eyes brighten a bit from that voice. Almost showing a spark of some kind of vitality from those lifeless eyes.

Still humming, Momo grabbed the shampoo and gentle starting to clean those silver locks. Having loved that hair for so long. The color was something one could find easily in nature. A person could go a lifetime without recalling such a silver shade. Her artistic hands rubbed the silver ends, now having grown pass his shoulders. She would keep his long hair, and let it grow more. Grinning at the good idea she had.

Wincing as the soap entered his wounds, he fought back making a sound. Knowing what might happen if he broke her humming again. Recalling when he had cried out that first time, the neddles were laced through his back. Being left for hours to hang. Taking shallow breaths as not to pull the skin. Breathing expanded the chest, pulling the skin on the back. She came back, smiling to ambrosially. Dried strawberry ice cream lining those lips.

One by one the neddles were pulled. One by one salt was added. Red hazed has filled his sight, the body shaking from the agony of unknown depths.

That one became one of her favorites to use on him. Sewing the neddles into parts of his body. Lacing the thread with beads. Smiling at him as she would and talk about her days like it was normal. Tugging at time to make sure the neddles were holding in the skin tightly.

Sensing he was not paying attention to what she was talking about while cleaning him up again. She pinched his cheek, drawing him back to her and only her. Eyes locked on hers for a moment and dropped to the water.

"Awwww Shiro-chan, you must be hungry. I can tell by you not listening. But you always like that, even when we were little!" she giggled

Finishing up with her washing and hoping up with a bunny jump. Momo grabbed the towels and lay them on the edge of the pool. Patting his head like she did when little, she to the towels saying "Dry off and I'll come back with some cloths and good food for you to ate with me!"

Do as he told, his delicate frame jolted at the chilly hit his skin. He had become as white as this world with lack of light on his skin or the touch of the sun. Pale scars flash deeper from the cold that covered his body now. Rows down his spin and lashes on his chest downwards to his stomach. Crisscrossing and then traveling on the arms and legs. Save his face that was left untouched on unopposed. Grabbing the towels to warp about this body as he sat on the edge of tub. Watching the ethereal light play on the crimson surface of the water.

Those teal eyes drank in the light, seeing shape and deflation after so long in the dark of the cage. Hugging the soft material closer to his body likes seeking a mother's touch. A few blood spots cling to the towel from his wrist, raw and open from the chains. Scars would soon form on those parts of his skin very soon.

She healed him only enough to keep his body alive.

Eyes closing from the pain of the light, no scents entered this place. Finding it distorting a bit. Blood and dirt now normal to scent in his world.

Light steps forced his teal eyes to turn, Momo racing in with some cloths it seemed and a man following behind with a tray of food to be eaten by them.

Shoving the cloths into his lap, she smiled childish saying "I picked these just for you! They should fit you perfectly Shiro-chan."

Her bight blue eyes glistened in the white room.

Grabbing the cloths very stonily, watching how she might move or act like a caged animal does. Turning around, he dropped the towel from the slim frame. Pulling on the pants one foot at the time. The shirt slipping over his head. They did fit like a glove to his body as she had put.

Clapping at how they fit her doll, she twirled with a giggle lightly in her mouth. "See, I know they would fit you! You look so cute! That shade shows off your pretty eyes!

Walking up and cupping his cheek in the small of her hand, she smiled. Peering into those eyes as she had done countless times. Slipping her other hand to slide in the crown of silver.

"Its so soft, like a kitten's fur is." she whispered

Fighting the urge to shudder and pull from the touch, he maintained his body froze to the floor. Eyes lock on her lips. Learning different ways she smiled was a clue to how she might act. Those lips were framed in a girlish smile.

"Say my name Shiro-chan..."

Blinking a bit at the shock of speaking. Was it a trap? What would she do if he didn't do as she asked him?

"Momo..." the word fell from his lips.

Smiling and patting his head a bit like a dog's. Her azure eyes beamed in the heart shape face. "Good boy Shiro-chan."

Nodding at the words, she took his hand and lead him into the other room. Leaving the crimson pool behind.


	3. Chapter 3

Still not a tear I shed, nor answer made  
All of that day, nor yet the night thereafter,  
Until another sun rose on the world

The Divine Comedy  
Inferno: Canto XXXIII

"Ok warning ppl, this chapter is a bit dark..."

He had no idea how long he waited. What time it was or if it was night or day in this world. It was always colorless. There was nothing to measure time by anyway. Meals never came in a set pattern nor did sleep. She did as she pleased.

Grabbing his hand in her own delicate one and taking him from one room to the other she lived in. Petting his head like a well trained dog at its master side. As long as she she happy with him, there was no punishment. Do as she wanted, do what was told, do everything to keep smiling like a innocent child.

Today, they walked in what might be a garden in this place. Trees of white silver had been made to grow into strange shapes. Bending and twisting into shapes that was forced in nature. Earth as dead as the air could hold no form of life anymore. Just white and bare as the toneless sky hanging over their heads as she held his hand and skipped along to a tuneless hum.

Her voice broke the silent, talking about her day with Azien.

"He was real mad today Shiro-Chan! He killed one of the nurse arrancar! She cut his hand when trimming his nails! She screamed and went spalt! It was goo and scarlet all over! Ewwwww!" she rushed out in one breath.

He watched her, watching her mouth and not her eyes. Lips forming into a childish pout for a moment.

"Shiro-Chan, are you listening?" toneless asked

Knowing that tone, what might happen if it was not the right reaction she wanted. beaming brightly and nodding his head as a good child would to a parent. Her mouth bloomed into a sweet smile and her hand touched his pale cheek. Tracing patterns on the skin.

"Shiro-chan, Azien wants to see you for dinner later. Is that ok?' she whispered

Taking a chance, his teal eyes widen into her own. Meeting the chocolate to his own lucid ones. The Master wished to see him? Why? Did he do something wrong again? Panic swell into his chest. Momo watched fear ripple in his eyes. Cupping his cheek like a mother once might have, she bent down to whisper into his ears.

"Its ok Shiro-chan. He just wants to make sure your ok now."

Letting her hand fall, a bit of her own fear bit into her mind for a moment. Last time Azien had almost broken Hitsugaya. It had taken weeks of healing to make him back to normal. He still had the scars on his back from the lighting whip her Azien-sama had left. She didn't want her doll to be broken again after all this hard work put into him!

Hitsugaya watched her walk away, the pale dress she wore leaving a tail in the silver sand. Shaking from the idea of Azien, he made his way to one of the twist trees to sit down. Memories slicing into his own...

The only thing holding him were the shackles on this wrist over head. Stretching out his body to the point of breaking almost. Blood covered most of the fair skin in little rivers. Many of the wounds had been healed after his "teaching sensation" with a giggling little girl. Dark brown eyes lighting up when he had made more sounds from the flick of the whip edged with lighting. No swears or cruse, no fighting back from the decayed mind of the boy. He was left alone for hours in the dark room. Then the door swing open, two of the arrancar gurads dragged in a strangling man.

"Let me go you assholes! I swear if I ever get loose, you hides are mind you fuckers! Let me go now!" a man's horse yelled and spat.

He was a capture shinigami , by the name of Nao Endo. Fresh out of the Academy just a few years before the year had started out. Having some of the top high marks in his class. He had a loving family and many good friends. Often joking around with all other shinigami and just being a all around good boy that he was.

Having joined the Tenth division to keep a eye on one of his weaker friends a year behind him. Landing as the Sixth seat of this division and finishing much of the paper work the Lieutenant never did. With light brown hair and bright greens eyes that would light up any room. He was known for cheering up those who were down with his antics and soft filled words. Being a open ear to those who needed it, for anyone who needed it.

Nao had been happy with his life. Now he was being dragged by the arrancar men after being captured during a battle in the Real world. Fighting with everything he had against an enemy he could not hope to win against at this point.

Those once bight eyes widen at what he saw in the dark room...

His caption lay shackled to the ceiling, dead eyes watching the shinigami being dragged into the room and chained as he was. One of the arrancar men smirked as the pair left the room.

"Caption? Caption is that you?" Nao whispered the words to the broken boy next to him.

Only the rising of his chest let him know his caption was still alive in some form in this room.

Azien walked in, Gin following in trail behind the leader of Hueco Mundo grinning at the pair of boys before him. Licking his mouth in a snake motion, one of Gin's eyes opened a bit in a bright crimson color. Knowing about what was going to happen in a few moments to the new visitor of their little home in the hollow world. Two more arrancar walked into the room along with two men. Holding what looked to be knifes in each little hand.

Momo came in bouncing with the women. Her hair free and flowing down the small of her back. Azien gave her a bright smile as she petted Hitsugaya's head.

"Don't touch him bitch! You have no right to touch him!" words ringing out in the stone walls.

Grabbing the man's hair, Azien frowned and leaned into his ear. Momo felt tears gathering in her eyes at this man. Why was yelling at her for no reason?

"Be careful my friend, if you make my little Momo cry like that...Let just say what she does is noting compared to what I am about to do..." his heavy slide out like honey into Nao's ear.

Aziern felt the boy shake in anger, good. This was going to be a very outcome. Turning to look at his other guest. He smiled in saying "Watch my little caption and learn what happens to those who fight me."

One of the female arrancar walked up to kiss the man, he was kept in place by Gin's long hands. Nap screamed in the kiss, the blade was sliding down his chest. Peeling of the skin as if it was apple being peeled before eating. The other started on his back, following her sister in the same motion. Blood oozed from the knifes.

The kisser moved down his neck, leaving a wet trail on the skin. Moving the blade agisnt the chest into the exposed muscle.

Nao screamed .

Azien smiled, sharing that same smile with Gin holding the boy still.

Momo petted her doll, with a tilted head at the scene being done at hand.

Her sister dug her finger along the back, pulling of the hanging skin and ripping it off in a shape tug. Licking the blood of her fingers in joy.

They moved on both sides of the body, peeling away the skin, pulling on the muches, revealing the bone. His eyes closed, his blood pooling on the floor. Eyes locked on the caption, begging for help of any kind.

Teal eyes locked on those ones, nothing showed.

Nao let it go, pulling into the darkness...

Hitsugaya snapped from the dream, shaking from the memories. Those eyes haunted his dreams from then. Knowing not why or who that boy had been. Only that Azien had wanted him to watch that happen and remember well the listen. Fighting back from throwing up, he could smell the blood and remembered seeing his reflection in the pool.

Looking up into the toneless sky, he wished why one word kept in Nao's voice would replay in his head also.

"Caption..."


	4. Chapter 4

Time meant nothing in this place as it had in the cell. It was an eternal night outside the windows; no breeze moved the sands to show a change. Just the ashen bone moon overlooking her world in a frozen radiance as it was every day.

His days flowed into the other of the same routine...

Rise with Momo, bath with her and be dressed in the clothes she picked. Seat and have tea with pancakes and reply to any of her questions she asked or nod to her words.

"Yes Momo"

"I am happy with you Momo

"I love you Momo"

"Thank you Momo"

It was the same. And those were what kept her happy, smiling. Keeping her smiling meant no pain.

Shiro then would be left on his own for the morning while his Keeper went off to do her work for Aizen-sama. She would leave him books to read, pictures of the living world. Talking how after the War they would go to this place and have ice cream. Books on fairy tales and a few on romance and simple stories, now and then one of the history of Japan or France or the one he enjoyed the most: Greece.

He asked for more books on Greece, "Why Shiro-Chan?" a bit taken he asked for something of her. "I like the stories...and buildings..." it was a simple plead in his voice. Patting his head like a dog, her smile was sentimental "You've been a good boy Shiro! So you can have more books on Greece!"

Now, she granted him time to move around the Las Noches. His collar would not let him go into all the rooms, yet he often went into the garden, sitting under a malformed white tree and opening the pages of a book. Then once more returns to the room and has dinner with Momo and sleep...

Life was a simple affair for Shiro, yet better than anything he recalled before those dark memories in the cell. Their dreams at times in his sleep, fragments of a yearning he could not name or images of people with the word of Captain always echo.

One of the faces would reflect in his mind's eye more than any other, silver cerulean eyes with a glint of a laugh at all times, full rose colored lips smirking, hair fine and long, honey colored under a warm sun. He knew her, often in the dream she was talking, saying the name he no longer had, yet her voice always faded away on waking to Momo.

Shiro did not tell her of these dreams, or of the woman that brought a feeling of familiarity with her image. His world was only supposed to be Momo and her voice and face, no one else's. Shiro learned that lesson all too well his days in the menacing cell, the blood dripping from his elfin back, and the burning of acid on the open wounds. Shuddering for a moment, he pushed those memories away.

Having gone outside for the day, the picture book of Greece temples and art lay open on his lap. No sounds reached this place, his heartbeat the only thing, knowing he existed in this place of hush. Shiro signed for a moment, closing the book and hugging it to his chest. That woman's face had popped up in his half dreams now, on the edges of his mind. He knew her and wanted to know who she was, he got the feeling she meant something to his life, a close bond. Yet how could that be? His world was Momo and Momo alone, he belong to her and her alone. Luminous emerald eyes sought the answer in the moon's cresting shape, yet she could not tell him.

"Well good evening Shiro-chan!" a light voice broke the young boys gazing, his eyes landing on a fox like man, smiling in his dictation. Gin Ichimaru waved at the boy, "How are we this evening?"

Something about the man always brought a strong disliking in the young man for odd reasons he dare not voice to anyone. Gin had never really touched him at all yet had watched that same fox smile always in place with his eyes hidden from the world. Licking his small lips, he lowered his gaze and spoke softly "Fine Gin-sama..." hoping it would be enough for the fox man to leave him alone and return back to Aizen-sama's side.

Gin frowned a bit at the young man's expression of his greeting, Shiro had changed much under the hands of Momo-chan in the following months, having no memory of who he once been. All the pride and fight was gone from the boy captain and left was a deplorable image of the shell he had been. "Glad to hear Shiro-chan, I must be going!"

Casting one more look back on the boy with his picture book, Gin only could shake his head in contempt just a bit. In a way missing the Shiro had known before the capture. ..yet he could have a bit of fun maybe. "Shiro, could you maybe go and run to get something for me out of one of the rooms."

Looking up for a moment, surprise splash over his face with a widen gaze at Gin. He never had asked him anything before "Yes Sir?"

"I left my note book behind I need for a meeting with Aizen-sama, could you go down the hall here about four doors and get it for me. It's black so you couldn't miss it in this place." He smiled at the small joke made or the truth of it.

Nodding, the boy bowed and walked past the man into the hall way. Counting the doors of the rooms as he walked by them as he went down the hall way. Shiro came the forth door and opened it yet froze in his place. This was a practice room with weapons, Aizen had told him he could not enter into rooms like this! Swallowing his fear, he didn't want to be punished again! But he could also be punished for getting the note book for Gin-sama. Making a list ditch choice, if Gin asked him to get the book it had to be ok then right?

It was matted by reeds and the color in the whole place was a runny tan in the sea of white of the place. It was a large space with bamboo targets set up wearing black cloth over their bodies of straw. His eyes looked around for the notebook, spotting the thing near the sword rack. Breathing deeply to stop his shaking, his feet padded soundless on the reeds. Shiro bent over to grab the papers; a bokken was lying over the thing. Sweat built on the tip of his brow, lightly touching the wooden blade as if it might bite him in spite. Picking the blade up, it was heavy in his tiny hands. Then something pulled at his mind, the once recalled only back in the cell. His hands grasped the hilt, perfectly as if he had known how to do it.

His brow once tense in a somewhat puzzled frown, had he handled a sword before? Most of his memories were lost in a haze of blood and whips, only Momo's voice was the thing he had held onto. It was the only sound in that sheathing silence of his cage, his link that let him he exist and lived in some shape.

Shiro swallowed his fear and swing the blade, his body followed through with the necessary movements. How could his body remember what he could not? Dropping the bokken, he reached for the book and ran out of the room. Fear biting all the way to his heels to Gin's open hands and smile.

During this little event, he had been watching

Studied by a pair of sharp eyes...


	5. Chapter 5

He knew something was wrong; something was tense in the air of the ashen walls called Las Noches. Many of the Arrancar reminded hidden from the footsteps of their Lord echoed in the paths of the kingdom of his. No one dared to cross his path this day.

Shiro knew from his own history to stay hidden in the rooms of Momo-chan and out of sight. Remembering a few of the things Lord Aizen had done in his quite raging. Trembling at the thought of the scorching iron pressed to his fair flesh one more with the acid dripping to eat away the top layer of skin.

Better to stay safe.

Momo had been gone most of the day, only appearing for lunch and tea with him. Her smile was gone with a tight lipped frown on her heart shaped face. Her chocolate locks hanging free from the white only kept his eyes on the tea cup to keep from enraging her if he looked at Momo the wrong way. Still maybe she might talk and tell him things that were bad!

"We lost two Espada today." her voice was softer in tone, fury under the words at those daring to anger her Aizen-sama!

Shiro took the chance to look up into those honeys colored eyes once. Fury had lit a wildfire in those deep depths. Momo was very angry at these people. Yet he saw a chance he might not get to know this enemy.

"Who was it Momo-chan?" Shiro kept his voice in a low whisper.

Tilting her head a little, a bit of a question in her thoughts at this sudden intake of questioning from her Doll. He never asked this before, save maybe once.

Still, it might make her feel better to speak on the subject. Even if Aizen told her not to! Shiro was her Doll and not his! He had given Shiro to her as a gift for being a good girl!

"Shinigami! Bad Shinigami who are trying to stop Aizen-sama's beautiful plan from happening Shiro-chan!" she spat out the words like they were passions to her throat.

His teal eyes widened a bit at this answer. He had only seen her in this flurry once before and it was when he had been bad on his first days here. Things were bad than he thought. Nodding to look like agreed with her statement. It pleased the girl to see this with a smile at him from the maddening mask that once covered the elfish features.

Getting up, she went to over to kiss his crown of silver locks. "Thank you Shiro-chan! You made me feel better! Gin needs me for the rest of the night with the new prisoners. So stay in the rooms for a bit longer."

Skipping out the door, Momo was happy she could punish these evil people for her Lord.

Leaning into the chair, he looked up for a moment. Shinigami? He remembers being told they evil beings trying to destroy the world Aizen had made for his subjects in this place. Bring peace to the world of the hollows at last. Yet why would they want to stop peace? A sharp pain blazed in his mind, grabbing his head for a moment as it hit his ...black uniforms...Captain...silver eyes calling a name he lost in the blood and darkness...

"Are you alright Shiro?" a deep voice broke the pain of the head che screaming in his mind. Teal eyes locked on a tall figure that residential power in all forms.

Aizen-sama

Lord of Las Noches

Fear gripped his body as the large hand light patted his crown of hair. Aizen was giving him a warm smile. A smile that could even fool the Devil, himself into cutting out his own heart alone.

"Now there, seems you are alright Shiro-kun." that voice purred his name, making it sound different and a promise of other things. "Why don't we go for a walk? The air and company would do a boy like you some good."

No sounds or protest came from his small mouth, just being lightly made to stand and the hand lead him out the doorway to the halls of the palace.

Only his eyes on the floor, one step echoing into the either of the stream of sound they made in the bare hall ways. Aizen said nothing to the boy at all, leading him to the center of his kingdom.

The thorn room.

His room.

Something was wrong! Aizen had something planned! Dare he meet those sinful eyes that peeled away the layers of the mind to the bare bone?

He stopped once the hand left his small shoulder, trying not to shake at all.

The man moved to stand in front of the boy, his aura, and calm yet coiled like a snake about to snap if you moved the wrong way. It was just the serpent's nature to act so.

"Shiro-chan, you did something I told you not to do." His voice was laced with pity for the young man at hand. Enjoying seeing the fearful light in those teal eyes, all fight and will was gone. So unlike before on his training sessions before with Momo and him in that dark room of chains.

Not waiting for the doll to seek an answer or beg for his lord's forgiveness, he launched into the reason by pulling the young man up by his color, eye level with him "You touched a weapon you know better Shiro-chan so you must take the punishment."

Hooking the collar to a chain to the floor, he throws the boy to the stones. Choking for air, his small hands pulled to loosen the tightness of the color. Yet his breath stilled in his chest...

Those two Arrancar women before walked behind from the throne, the white cloth of straps barley contended their bodies in the cage of it all. Their masks over shade their eyes, the red slits shining in the darken caves of their eyes with exigent of the work at hand of their lord and master.

He truly must love them to let them punish Momo's personal toy. They had such fun with him last time a few weeks ago...

Aizen only called them Beta and Alpha, due to being twins born of the same hollow from his hands.

Shiro backed away from their gleeful silken movements, only the chain keeping him in place. Their hands sought his flesh, ripping away the cloth of his robe. Pale scars glowed in the elastic light of the room. One of them purred, her mouth meeting the skin and tasting it.

He shuddered, and then screamed from the interaction of her fangs on his shoulder; blood rippled down the pale skin once more.

Blood, the sweet taste, full of ice and snow.

Beta licked at his tender wrist, too wanting her full of this icy treat. Fangs sunk deep into the veins of the trembling boy, her acid eating at the wound to keep it open and the crimson elixir flowing down her ivory throat.

Shiro shudders, tears leaking from his glazed eyes.

The twins racked his chest with their claws, blood flowing in a steady rain to the floor to pool and cool.

Moving from their acid marks to lick at his chest and the warm blood of his heart beating, it out yes, it was a good meal.

He was frozen in the pain, trapped by them from the terror of it all.

Aizen sat on his throne, enjoy the show of his beauties ripping away at the boy's snowy flesh.

Shiro was ready to give into the pit of himself once more, yet the dream of before floated back to him as if capturing his shattered mind.

Those silver eyes, warm and kind.

She spoke his name, pleading for him to remember it. To keep it safe from these monsters and pull deep into his core of whom he once was.

Hitsugaya ....

Toushirou...


	6. Part 6

It lost on him for a moment, this sweet nectar of that voice calling for him and alone. Those silver eyes begging for him to return home.

Wasn't this place his home?

He was a doll for Momo-chan and that was all he knew.

Wasn't his whole reason for existing in this sallow hell made by Aizen-Sama of his own dreams and kingdom to seek peace?

Shiro whimpered for a moment of his chest, the muscles pulling the arms to lift his body from the pool of dried blood of the frosty stones. Fire rose on the tender skin from where the twins had cut his chest open with their razor bladed nails and their sharp fangs sank into the tender flesh of the collared boy. He should've been killed by them in their feeding of his blood and flesh.

They never killed him and just left the broken body to heal once more of Shiro.

Why?

That question had always been nodding in his mind for some times when looking at the map of scars on his body from his punishments he earned. Or when they thought they needed a bit of amusement by using his body as their puppet to do as they pleased. To Momo he was her doll to keep her company and play simple games with and pretend, to his Lord he was an outlet for his anger and own twisted visions.

Why?

The chain had been un clipped from his collar so the boy could weakly move from the throne of the room of Aizen-sama and head back to his keeper for what she needed. Would Momo be made at him for not being there for dinner? Could his snowy flesh take one of her own personal enjoyments of the blood being drained from his scars once more?

Every step was painful to his body and he fought back crying in this place if anyone cared to watch the parade of the broken soul of Shiro. His sight was a blur of white lines and hall ways with black doors, each one the same as the last as he passed to keep going to Momo's room and maybe to rest if she was not there for angry with him.

The sweet fresh air was like a drink to his lungs of the stale air of the palace, the twisted crystal trees glowed in the half cast moon that seemed for once smiling on the land to him and not the lonely light she often gave off in his world. Maybe she was trying to comfort the boy and under stood him of not belong in his place.

Shiro caught goes anymore as he hugged the tree that had been his only company in reading in this garden. It's shadowy form wrapped around the child's shadow in its branches to rattle it might seem to anyone looking this late in the night phase. Slow warmth hit his chest as the blood of the bite slide down the pastel flesh to hit the silver sands of Las Noches

He fell into the darkness of his mind as he laid his weeping body on the cool sands and cared not raise from this place again. Caring not for Momo-chan or her needs for once in his exist even if that was the only reason to live in this world.

Why?

It left a silver note ringing in his mind and captured it from the pain; he recalled that image of the woman again and held on to it from the pain. Such brighten eyes of cerulean that glowed with something he yearned for and could not name in his life.

Love?

It was lost to Shiro of what it was? Momo said it, yet it was twisted and hollow from her pink lips and lonesome eyes that held nothing but for Aizen. Did she love him? Did she serve Aizen-sama out of a twist thing they called love?

She had whispered something sweet into his ears, a name he knew once long ago. Her eyes pleading for him and the scent of honey in his nose, a recall of warm lips on his forehead and those silver eyes shining just of that thing he yearned to recall and know. He wanders who she was in his mind and why she came now of all times in his tortured being.

Then her whispers had reached for that moment with a name, a name of his own maybe? Shiro was the name that Momo gave him that day he was freed of the sinister room. He belonged to her and that name was her's for him and that is what he replied to when spoken too by all other people in this white hell of his home or punishment.

Hitusyaga ....Toushiro...

Something deep in him reposed to it, seeking that name that belonged to the boy and to him alone. Nao's voiced also called him something.

"Captain."

It hungered for it, to exist in those words that had been stripped away in blood and torn flesh, in scars and tears shed by teal eyes in the darkness. Of that honey colored scent and silver eyes full of a fire he longed to be seen in and captured in. To feel more than numb fingers of Momo on his body or the touch of Aizen or his kind anymore on his skin, it felt so cold to his soul.

He wanted to claim that name for his and fill the shape of it to his own, to be that name it called out for.

Hitusyaga ....Toushiro...

He let it fall from his lips, hungering for the sound of it. " Hitusyaga ....

Toushiro..."

Shiro stirred with the sound of it to his ears like fine wine, clear and point to his ears. A name of his own and his alone. This he would keep from them. Something else but in his mind, new to the core of his soul.

Hate

Hate for Them

He hated them for binding and burning his flesh. For stealing his name and recasting his soul to fit theirs needs and hungers. He hated Momo for the empty smile and sweetness of her voice saying his name of Shiro and twisting what it once meant maybe in a past life to them. He hated Aizen for cravening his body and breaking his mind of who the boy once called: Hitusyaga Toushiro

But then his mind recoiled to ask the question: Who was Hitusyaga Toushiro?

He needed to know...to maybe find out who this person was or had been before Shiro had come along to this white hell of Aizen-sama. The person who's silver eyes pleaded to return to some place lost in the trails of his mind once more. Teal eyes crept open to the lonely moon in her endless watch of this dead world, understanding that feeling all this time of the young boy.

He would find Hitusyaga Toshiro once more even if he lost who Shiro was in the end.


	7. Chapter 7

He made it back to Momo's rooms just time before she came storming into the place. It vibrates from the merciless energy of the girl as her hand land on his lustrous cheek. His body crashed into the table that held the warm tea for their dinners like always. Slumping on the black surface, he lightly traced the mark and winced a little from the sharp pain she could only stare in a fury at the Doll that was hers and hers alone.

"You went with him when I told you to stay here!" she shirked, back handing the broken boy onto the bed before he could even explain or calm her down at all "You are mine! Not his!"

Shiro only kept his form still while she stormed and broke the tea set and throw and tore up the books in the room for a few moments and then left. It was the good thing she had not forced on him in one of those rages. His body couldn't stand a session tonight alone with Momo and snap.

"Things must be going badly for them if she's like this..." he thought, just laying on the bed and resting on the black sheets of silk. It felt good on his raw skin not to move at all. Just rest for now and think of what to do next.

Found out who Hitusyaga Toushiro was or had been before this war or Aizen captured him. Shiro knew there was a deep connection to the woman and her silver eyes. He knew it.

She had said his name on her lips, something rose in his heart for a beat, that feeling he dared not to name in those eyes yet longed to feel from her. Her touch had never hurt his skin; he felt that from his body and wondered what it might feel like to be touched in love and not pain or torture.

Something of a long forgotten dream he had once.

A life time ago in the mind of or as this Hitusyaga Toushiro seem almost not replicable

Was he this boy? Maybe not? He had to find the truth out or this wound torture his soul more than Aizen or Momo ever could on his flesh. Shiro knew this, felt this and made his choice deeply rooted in his mind. Yet there was only one place that might hold his answer in Aizen's bedrooms.

No one dared to go into the core of the ashen kingdom, not even Gin.

Shiro knew this thought might have ended his plan, not even the Espada dared to cross the door frame of that room. No one did...it was a death sentence to even touch the black wood of the massive doors. Yet it was the only place that might hold the answer he needs.

There was no choice or turning back now with this thought in his mind. He had to know the truth of the boy and the silvered eye woman who yearned for his return to her side. Shiro would do the forbidden even if he lost his life at the end of it. He would weather lose his life doing something brave before doing a fool's death than stay like this. A doll with no name and belonging to all but himself in the end of his life, or this endless illusion of days such as this one.

He wanted to belong to himself,

He wanted his name back.

He wanted himself.

He lay in the bed and dared not sleep for some time still; Momo could come back in a foul mood. It was better to be ready for that. Shiro knew this lesson all too well from the few other times of being caught off glued by the beauty. He shuddered at her imagine her touch on his cheek, the nails digging in to claw into the cheek and causes the blood to flow so eagerly. She had lapped at it like a kitten with milk, trailing kisses down his pale neck and leaving his blood as her mark that night. Clawing at his shoulders and lapping his blood as it feels to the white sheets. "Mine, all mine." was all she hummed in her angelic like voice in his ears. Then left him alone to clean the mess up...

Shiro knew from the chime of the broken it would be some time till she did come back to the rooms. This could his only chance to get it over with before he lost his nerve and once more slipped away into his mind as he done this past year. Or had it been days? Weeks? Hours? No time here at all to measure the lapse of it all.

He had done it now!

Shiro pushed himself up from the bed, only taking the time to put on a fresh robe and pants as white as his hair with a tray for food or tea Momo might send him for. It was a cover up he could use for his part in why he was walking around like this and with out Momo by his side in some of the darker parts of the kingdom.

He could say he was lost; it worked before once for the first time to the kitchens for her. Playing the Doll had kept him alive out of the Arrancar fear of the small girl. It said something if they feared her so strongly of how twisted her soul had become in this place of inheritable nights and cloudless skies. Maybe he was at twisted as her? Shaking his head for the moment, the boy only padded out into the empty halls once more.

No one was around.

Strange maybe?

Or it was the War with the Shinigami that made this place so empty of the life.

But it worked out for him, keeping well aware of any sounds that might give him even a moment's leap to hide or slip on the mask of the Doll he used now around these beings to keep his inner self-safe and thoughts. If they knew? He might not come back to being Shiro and just truly a husk of flesh for being played with and dressed up. He shivered in this thought alone, his small feet padding down the halls and heading deeper into the core of what must hell.

Moments turned and stretched into minutes and soon maybe hours as he wandered the halls of the white hell of Aizen's kingdom of white. Teal eyes darting at shadows or his body freezing for a moment as if hearing a sound of foot steps coming his way just around the turns and twist of the corridors that might lead to his end by their hands so very quickly. Now and then a few would walk by as he kept to the edge of the wall. There heart pounding in his chest like a drum and stilling his breath in the air to keep silent in his walk to hell maybe? Shiro was the mouse in this place and he knew he acted the part to keep alive.

Yet a mouse did fight back some times.

Keeping his head low in case he ran into one of them, the rooms had very little light in them from the lamps on the walls that were getting further spaced out as he went along the endless hall ways. Then for a moment, he wanted to give up, he was worn out and tired from the already events on his body. Shiro placed his head on the cool stone of the hall, drinking in the chill and loving it. He liked the cold, felt it call to him like a sirens song to touch it and bathe his body in her chill.

Cold..like ice..frozen in time and yet being reshaped. Still being what it was in the core no matter shaped by who's hands.

Ice..

"Hitsu..."

His teal eyes snapped open from the loving touch of the chill on his forehead. That voice! It was not the woman; it was deeper and echoed of thunder and breaking the ice. Ice and snow captured in the roar of the tone. He knew that voice!

Not even caring anymore for his plan, his body reacted while his mind stood still in the recollection of his actions. It guided him to the black doors of the Lord, they looked like the Hell gates that opened for the damn souls of humans...he shivered but sensed nothing of the man here they belonged too.

"gaya Tor"

It was called that name he held deep in his soul, it stirred the person inside of him to come out. To claim that name that was his and his alone. Shiro lightly pushed it back for now till they found what or who was calling them from this room.

Pulling in his breath, the young boy pushed the door open and stepped into the blackness of the rooms. His form swallowed by the darkness as the hell gates closed

Once more to the ashen world.


	8. Chapter 8

He felt something calling him as the darkness enveloped his small form once more, losing the sense of discretion in this place. Nothing seemed to move in the dead air save his own breath that explained from his chest, the only living sound in this purgatory of Aizen's own making.

Shiro reached out blindly for the first steps into the room or a room most likely knowing it was the room of the Lord of this place. Nothing came to the outstretched fingertips seeking some kind of way to walk or to make sure he had to note of a guide back to the doors he if could leave. Where was the voice of before? Something tugged at the edge of his mind for a moment.

It was cold, and pulsed on his skin.

Calling whispers of him he was close to the voice that brought the young man to this place in the first point. Shiro caught and held his breath to stop any mention of sounds from his body. Listening to anyone or anything that might be watching from the darkness of this place or seeking something else than just watching his small form from the unfolding shadows. Surely there was some kind of watch system in this place. Yet who also would dare to enter into the month of yell willing or seek something from the Lord-sama's room?

No one

Save a boy who had nothing else to lose in the end of this little walk.

Shiro then felt the smooth surface of the stone on his fingertips for the moment and it sent a tremble of relief he had some kind of bearings now in this place. Blinking, his hands traced what might be a lamp of some kind, taking the chance he pressed what was the switch as the wick sprung to life in a silver flame that pierced the darkness enough to let him see a good four feet at least.

Who was he to complain at this moment?

So fair the details were on a white floor and walls much like the hallway he had left moments before to enter into this place. He had only the cold energy echoing his name to follow in this place and it was the only thing he had to even know who he had once been. Then it called him once more.

"Hitsugaya ....Toushiro"

It said his name fully and it strikes something deep in his soul and mind, clawing and trying to come to the surface that was the person of Shiro.

Closing those sea-green orbs for a moment he fought to keep that part silenced for now. He had to if they wanted to get out alive. "Please wait just a little longer," he whispered to his mind as it was pushed back without a fight once more but that part of him wanted out, to draw blood in payment for the things done to him by two people he once trusted and called the friend.

Momo...

Aizen...

Those two names held the promise of blood to them; savage.

It somewhat scared Shiro that something like that called to him, was that his true nature? There was only one way to find out as he once more set out on the path of the whispers of snow saying the name of who he had once been maybe in one lifetime ago.

Who had this young man been?

Maybe finding whatever called to him would answer that at least in some ways. Shiro knew also one more thing that had called that name to him. Those cornflower eyes, yearning for him to come home and whispering that name on full lips with such sweetness to the sounds. A woman he knew that held a deeper bound to the name as deep as the cold whispers that also claimed it.

It was confusing to him, to say the least on several levels of who he had once been to have these bounds. Even at times Momo striking something in his soul, that she had not always been this way. It seemed to lead a connect to Aizen and also might end with him. Such thoughts entered his mind as he walked down the hallway with the light.

"Hitsu..." the deep thunder rolled out his name, etching into the soul of the young man. Calling for him and just him in this darkness...

"Who are you? What are you?" Shiro thought back, hoping whoever or whatever this voice was might respond back. Seeking an answer for all this at least.

"Find me."

Find him? How? Why did he always up with more questions in this little quest than any answers at all? His fist hit the wall next to him in him outcry of the anger building in the small frame of the young boy of silver hair. How long must he put off this search to find only dead ends? The mind offered nothing or little to the clues of who he had once been and it's not like he could ask Aizen or Momo right out on the subject of this all happening to him. Shiro only had the thundering voice that whispered to him to find it.

He had no choice in the matter once more in what to do but follow the order of the voiceless storm.

He huffed in the air as his feet once more set on the steady pace of the walk into the depths of the room or hallways as it might be. Thinking it might keep going forever, the room penned to something larger as the cold light hit the open rugs of black.

"This has to be it at last..." he could only hold that hopeful thought in his mind. Setting on finding the wintrily energy as a wolf to the scent of blood.

Teal eyes found an oak desk with books on shelves of old printing and new.

Works of human art that he could not hope to name but noted a few from his own books back in Momo's room, many in fact.

Rich carpets of the Middle wing that lay on the ashen stone floors and tiles.

A bed of crimson silk that could hold six grown men and their lovers if needed.

Then his search came to a closed door, bound in steel locks and spells of the demon arts. Kanji's that held some kind of barrier in place.

The energy was behind this door. Beating at the spells to be free of the bindings place on what held it, calling for him and pleading to be freed of this closure put on it. He felt claws scrapping at the barrier as the roar of the beast filled and ravage his soul in the pain of it all.

He had found the voice...

Thinking of not or put into a trace his fingers lightly touched the minds of the door, the chains froze in an icy grip as the barrier shattered in the rush of winds of the energy captive behind it and called at once by the skin of Shiro. It recoiled in a fierce joy of being free as the door slide open once more to reveal itself to the teal eyes.

A kanata...with a star-shaped hilt and blue bindings in an ebony sheath. Something that was his in every way his arm or his very leg was part of him. Something that was far deeper than that of the flesh of bone. It was so much more than that, he could not dare to even under a name or word to form what this simple blade might mean to him once more.

Yet he knew the name before as his hands gentle pulled the sword from the chains on the wall. A name burned and scarred deep into the depths of his soul. Something he could never truly taken from him.

"Hyourinmaru"

That name was his and that of the blades, as his fingertips light traced the worn bindings of the hilt of the breathing blade that lay once more in his hands. Shiro knew this blade better than anything else in this darkened world of blood and shadows."Hyourinmaru." he chimed out the name once more only to be gifted with a warm touch to his deformed soul.

"Welcome home, Hitsuyaga."


End file.
